A Different Path, A New Life
by Iris Belle
Summary: The first time the Dursleys see Harry, something...weird happens. One-shot, AU. Rated for mentions of abuse.


Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, except the plot. AU, some OOC. One-shot for now, may turn into a story.

**A Different Path, A New Life**

In Little Whinging, there wasn't a happier family than the Dursleys, residing at Number 4, Privet Drive.

Petunia Dursley was a very happy woman. She had married into status, and had born a beautiful baby boy after a year of marriage. Her husband was a great man, and her son grew into an adorable little toddler. She kept her home neatly maintained, with every room as picturesque and neat as homes in magazines.

And so she lived her life quietly and dutifully, perfectly fulfilling the role of a housewife.

Dudley, her beautiful son, was already a year old, and could say "Mama" and "Dada." He waddled around, his delighted laughter wafting throughout the house. He loved playing outside, and his doting parents let him play in the front yard under their watchful eyes.

October 31, 1981, was a completely different story.

In the morning, the skies were unusually dark, to the point where it was almost black. People were confused; clocks were re-examined, and all the anchormen would say was that the peculiar weather was due to changes in the global temperature.

No one believed that explanation, but shrugged and didn't question it. But Petunia knew better—her sister, Lily Potter, had warned her of odd occurrences, and advised her to stay in and lock the door. Unnatural occurrences – that was today, Petunia was quite certain. Though Vernon, her husband, had to go into work, she made him call in sick for the first time ever. Dudley was not allowed to go outside; he wailed and cried and banged his toys all around, demanding to be let outside – "OUT!" – but Petunia was firm.

Halloween was a quiet affair that year – not many children went trick-or-treating, and those that did were accompanied with adults.

Petunia didn't answer the door to anyone. With all the curtains drawn and the lights dimmed low, she knew that it looked as if no one was home, and she wanted to keep it that way.

The three Dursleys stayed huddled inside, eating a quick dinner of a frozen pizza that Petunia baked in the oven and a simple salad tossed together. Vernon knew better than to question his wife when it came to strange matters; he didn't comment on anything, except that maybe the three of them should go up to their room and stay in bed.

Around seven o'clock, Dudley amused himself with the bright colors on the big box, while Vernon and Petunia conversed quietly.

"Do you have any idea what might be going on?" Vernon asked, his voice low.

Petunia shook her head. "I haven't talked to Lily in more than two years, but the last time I saw her, she did warn me to stay inside on days like this."

"It doesn't seem natural," Vernon commented. "Not natural at all. What day is so dark, that it is mistaken for night?"

Sighing, Petunia rubbed her temple. "If I knew, I wouldn't be keeping us inside like this, especially poor Duddikins … you know how much he likes to play outside!"

Before Vernon could answer, there was a loud crash outside, like a thunderclap, and then a high-pitched scream. Dudley paled, and started wailing loudly. Petunia rushed to embrace her frightened son, and tried shushing him.

"Vernon!" Petunia yelled over Dudley's increasingly loud screams.

Vernon stepped out of bed, reaching for his rifle in the closet. "I know. I'll be right back."

There was pounding outside, lots of screaming, and more thunderclaps. Vernon held back, watching from the top of the stairs. His front door seemed to glow from the light outside ("Most likely from the thunder," he reasoned to himself); even he, a brave man, wouldn't brave THAT.

He waited until everything was quiet. Then, he heard it – a baby's wail.

_That isn't Dudley_, Vernon reasoned. _My son does not cry like that._

Running back down the hallway to their room, Vernon saw Dudley fast asleep in Petunia's arms, his cheeks stained with tears.

"There's a baby outside."

Petunia's already pale, horsey face paled even more – she was as white as a sheet. "A _baby_?"

Vernon grimly nodded. "I'll be back."

Kissing the top of her head, Vernon left his wife and son in the comfort and safety of the room, and walked down the stairs.

When he peeked out the side of the door, he didn't know what to expect.

A basket, however, wasn't it.

Cautiously, he opened the door, his gun positioned to shoot anyone or anything that came near him.

When nothing of the sort appeared, he quickly lifted the blanket on top of the basket, and gasped.

There, in the basket, lay a babe with black hair, a lightning scar on his forehead.

"What is this?" Vernon whispered to himself.

Attached to the baby was a note—

_The baby is now an orphan. His name is Harry James Potter. Keep him safe. Never let him outside_.

Vernon gasped. Bringing the basket in, he yelled. "PETUNIA!"

---

From that moment on, the Dursley household was never the same. Vernon became a more violent man, resorting to beating his wife. For some reason, the Potter made him angry. Whenever guests came over, they always commented on Potter's adorableness, his adorable smile, his adorable laugh, his adorable _everything_. Dudley was ignored, for he had grown a bit chubby. Even though Vernon believed his own son to be much more handsome and better-looking than the Potter idiot, it seemed that no one else saw the little whale as a cute boy.

Petunia hated the boy – Potter was the reason that Vernon started to hit her. But she knew that she couldn't hurt the baby. He was Lily's son. Her only relative through the Evans' blood.

She was very adamant about listening to the note—the boy was never allowed outside. That was one thing Vernon liked to gloat about. His son was growing healthily under the embrace of the sun, but the Potter boy was only allowed to stay inside and watch his cousin have fun.

Two years later, when he realized that the Potter boy was already sounding out words and reading titles of books and magazines lying around, he was furious. Dudley was nowhere near as smart, and this … this freak was already beating him!

It was the final straw for Vernon when the freak performed a bit of magic – he knew that the Potters were magic, but he didn't think that the boy would have it, too.

It was just a normal day in mid-July, when Vernon came home early from work to take Dudley to the zoo. When he came into the boys' playroom, he froze.

Harry and Dudley were sitting across from each other, and Dudley was walking around, grabbing more toys from his bed and Harry's bed, while Harry pointed at the huge circle of toys in the air.

When Dudley noticed his father standing in the doorway, he broke into a smile. "Daddy! Harry do magic!"

Immediately, Vernon saw red. 'So,' he thought nastily, 'He's a freak too!'

His mind darkened by his hatred for the young boy, he grabbed Harry by the wrist and shook him harshly. He only knew of one way to hurt Harry without his wife knowing.

He snapped at Harry, "Go outside."

Vernon thrust Harry's wrist out his hands, stalking out of the room with a look of pure, unadulterated rage.

"Outside? Me?" Harry repeated.

Dudley shook his head. "Mommy said you can't."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe I can now!" He seemed excited at the thought.

"BOY!" roared Vernon from downstairs.

Quickly, Harry grabbed the first thing that he could find on his bed, and put on the warm jacket before walking down the steps slowly.

His uncle was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, the door already open. "Let's go, boy," Vernon growled.

Harry was too happy to finally be allowed outside that he didn't notice the cruel smile on Vernon's face, or realize that the weather was quite chilly for him to be going outside at this time, or that it was beyond sunset, or that it was already dark, or that his aunt was curiously not around …

"Yay!" Harry squealed, running around the front yard, throwing his hands up in the air the way he'd seen Dudley do sometimes.

Vernon smiled evilly, and closed the door. A _thunk_ confirmed that he locked his nephew outside.

Filled with excitement, Harry didn't even notice that the door was closed, let alone locked. Instead, he picked up a stick, happily poking the ground with it. He walked around the grass, and kept poking at different parts of the ground.

A snake appeared out from near the ground that he was poking. "_What are you doing?_" the snake hissed.

Harry looked at the snake. "_Hello_," he hissed back. "_You pretty!_"

The snake peered up at him. "_You are strange_," the snake said. "_You look like a two-legger, but you speak like one of Us_."

Harry cocked his head. "_Two? I'm two_!"

Had the snake the ability to roll his eyes, he would have. "_Where is your home? Why are you outside?_"

Harry pointed the stick towards his house, waving it a little. "_Home._"

Suddenly, an electric blue light surrounded Harry, and disappeared.

The last thing that Vernon saw of his nephew was a lone stick falling to the ground near a snake, right after a huge thunderclap sounded.

He ran outside. He couldn't find his nephew anywhere, and cursed the day that the freak was born.

That evening, he told Petunia that Harry had run away from home. She screamed herself hoarse, begging him to let her go find him. When he didn't answer, she tried calling the police, but he merely backhanded her, and told her to take care of her son.

In an isolated manor many miles away, Severus Snape sat in front of a fireplace, reading a book while enjoying the warmth and crackling of the fire before him.

Never did he expect to see a small toddler in front of him, with a shocked look on his face.

"Home?"


End file.
